


Recharge

by wordybabe



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural (TV Show)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Cuddling Castiel/Reader, Domestic Castiel, Domestic Fluff, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluffiness, Gen, Hurt Castiel, Romantic Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 23:04:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11262861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordybabe/pseuds/wordybabe
Summary: In an exhausted daze, Castiel finds himself pining for his comrade whom insistently traps him in her bedroom in an attempt to help him recharge.





	Recharge

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly had no idea where this was going, but it went and now; it's here. Extreme cheesiness (and potential crappiness) ahead - READ WITH CAUTION.

Another monster ganked, another case closed. 

Everything fell into place after the last mission they had - almost fluidly and planned - which was never a wrong thing, except the Winchesters' winged friend had grown restless after his grace had been overused. Perhaps the fact that the last mission was their 4th in the last week, was worth mentioning. Between healing the fatally wounded (a lot of broken bones and bleeding) and smiting the supernatural entities that went bump in the night (and in one of the weekly cases, in the light of day); his grace was bound to be depleted enough to have his rhythm thrown completely off. He barely stumbled through the last case. (Y/N) was to be thanked for the slim amount of energy he had brewing in him - a small smile and a shy whisper of his name was electrifying. 

Normally, sleep would be the perfect way to restore one's functionality. A nice bed to house one's weary self, the warmth from a nearly velveteen blanket enveloping one's exhausted limbs, and the glorious cushioning provided by a pillow that would squash his fatigue-ridden head in a blissful haze; what a perfect combination would that be, and yet; 

"I can't," says Castiel with a look of irritation; not directed at the beauty before him who made frustration seemed less annoying and more adorable. No, _never_ at her. "If I could, then I already would have, but angels can't sleep."

"Why not, then?" Her face morphed into what a face would look like after having a sour treat; scrunched and squished with revulsion at his answer. 

"We were just made to be that way, (Y/N)." He knew the reason why, yet his poor judgment made it quite difficult for him to formulate his words.

Deciding she wouldn't press on, (Y/N) simply took ahold of his trench coat-clad shoulder and tugged. His fragmented words were a sign of his absolute surrender of control over his own consciousness, so she took it upon herself to help him into the comfort of her quaint, little living space she claimed when they first discovered the bunker.

"I already told you that my biology was not given the luxury of experiencing dormancy," He fussed around to get up from the cushioned mattress and emerge from the confines of the fleece blanket, but nothing compared to the heat brought by her nimble fingers grazing the fabric of his coat as she pulled it off him and the contact from having her give him more comfortable clothes to change into.

"Here, sweats and a shirt that's 100% cotton. You're in luck. I just took these out of the dryer;" she flopped down on her belly and awaited the return of the distressed angel, "Ready for bed?" 

"(Y/N)-"

"I didn't hear a no;" she remarked like a petulant child, pushing him down gently as he tried to sit back up. "So, you're staying in that bed and under those covers."

Castiel watched her leave with a quick pace, hurriedly dashing past the oldest Winchester who snuck a sly smile at the flustered celestial at the small crack of the bedroom; "Hey, Cas. You're looking comfortable."

"(Y/N) saw to it that I am well-rested by letting me stay in here, advising me to stay still and remain under this blanket." He grumbled, strained by the too-tight, tucked-in blanket.

With a chuckle, Dean left Castiel to his own demise. Anxiety had taken over him as (Y/N) took awhile to come back. It was odd to have longed for her presence even if she just left seconds before, but still; he felt it deep within the dormant compartment of his heart. 

Was she going to come back?

What was taking her so long?

Was she caught in some sort of short-termed danger? Perhaps like him, she encountered an incident with the absurd machinery that birthed bread called an oven, _but that was for another time._

(Y/N) has admitted to never having a flair for creativity and a knack for beautifying places, yet her room had him enthralled with how much her was just drowning in it. 

Its expanse was quite big; enough room to hold a king-sized bed (that was most important), a closet, two, huge shelves and a desk. Pictures and posters of her favorite things and favorite people - at the sight of his very own portraits, his cheeks had scorched a dizzying heat - colored the gray exterior of the room. Novelties were calculatedly positioned atop the slots of one of her shelves on the far left, she always brought things back from cases as he observed from time to time. Her subtle appreciation for the world and its simplicity came in contrast with the high stakes their job had put her in quite frequently. The other shelf was filled with books she had picked up when they had the time, declaring reading as part of her proud pursuit for wisdom. She claimed that a mind at rest is never a mind at best (and oh, she did like being the best and she was in Castiel's eyes), so enriching herself with lores, some theories, hypotheses and the basic antiquities of what the world has to offer has become one of her past times. 

The noise from the door creaking open perked up his hearing and his attention was caught with extreme longing to have (Y/N) back into the room with him and he'd be lying if he didn't hope to have her beside him on the too big bed.

"Sorry I took so long," her seemingly dampened feet padded onto the wooden floor in wet smacks; "I had gunk on my everywhere and scrubbing them all off was bitch. Can't exactly snooze if I've got a bunch of crap on me. Do you mind if I lay with you?"

"That's an odd question considering it is your bed I am currently occupying," says he with a furrowed brow; "perhaps, I should ask you the same thing; do you mind if I stay here?"

"I don't. You can stay here for as long as you like."

The lights were switched off and they were left with the glow of amber from the nightlight installed on the bed. They both shifted into a more comfortable position; him on his back and she on her side facing the angel with the scrunched up face. 

"What am I to do here if I cannot sleep?" 

"Close your eyes, relax." She yawned out, "just let go of everything, act like you're floating, feel light. Rest doesn't ultimately mean sleep, Castiel. Being in bliss is considered rest. It's technically a break, so you go do that. Take a break. Enjoy yourself, Cas."

Under his breath, he uttered; "People find this enjoyable?"

He had his eyes roam around the room to break away from the heat that has been rapidly climbing up to cloud his brain and to look for the bliss she had been talking about. Again, he became a bit amused on how her essence was splashed on every corner even more so on the space she had occupied herself - the space beside his tensed frame.

"Yes, we do." Her mouth barely letting the words slip from it.

His vision's journey ended on said space from where the melody that was her voice came from. The space that held the weight of her ethereal beauty; her lips that parted slightly gave off sweet breaths of air, her heart had slowed a few moments behind its normal rate - entailing her evident surrender to slumber, her face that once held a few taut muscles from all those time thinking about the endless storms of schemes and ideas for cases (both long and short) was now more serene-looking than its ever been. This was as close to bliss as he can get and he was more than grateful for it. 

The blue in his eyes washed across her physique like waves rolling on a calm ocean. With drooping eyes and a smile hanging from the frame of his contented face, Castiel allowed his hand to brush the softness of her face. In that moment of pure felicity, he had come to answer his own question;

_Yes, we do._


End file.
